


Say It With Some Flowers

by Miya_Morana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Flowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miya_Morana/pseuds/Miya_Morana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Subtlety: something angels don’t have. Even archangels turned pagan gods, it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say It With Some Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "flowers" square of my schmoop_bingo card back in 2010. Beta-ed by peppervl.

Dean looks up from the newspaper to watch as Gabriel peers over Sam’s shoulder to have a better look at the computer screen. He smirks. Subtlety: something angels don’t have. Even archangels turned pagan gods, it seems.

“Dude,” Sam complains, leaning away from Gabriel. “Personal space!”

Dean winces, because yeah, okay, Sam might be oblivious. Dean wasn’t much better when it was Castiel doing that weird angel courtship thing to him. Though Sam witnessed it, so he really _should_ know better by now.

Gabriel takes a step back, and Sam doesn’t see the chagrined look in his eyes, but Dean does. He bites his bottom lip. The archangel has come a long way from the time he was playing cruel tricks on them. Since then, he died saving them from Lucifer, was brought back –presumably by God– and has been helping them out ever since, saving their butts a few more times in the process.

Dean kinda likes him. It is so _obvious_ that Gabriel is falling for Dean’s little brother, and Dean doesn’t want for them to dance around each others for months, maybe even for _years_ , the way he and Castiel did. He thinks they both deserve a little happiness.

Gabriel walks off to the kitchen area, opens the fridge. He’s turned his back to them, so Dean’s the only one to see Sam… He almost chokes on his own saliva. _Jesus_ , his little brother is _checking out Gabriel’s ass_! He so doesn’t need to see that.

He really needs to do something about the whole thing.

It takes him three days, three highly frustrating days, to manage to have a private talk with Gabriel. The archangel might be with them most of the time, but he’s almost never out of Sam’s earshot.

Dean finally manages to get him alone when Sam’s in the shower. Gabriel is about to fly off to God-knows-where, as he always does when the Winchesters are getting ready to go to bed, and Dean calls his name just in time.

“What?” the archangel wines, turning to face Dean. Damn can the guy _pout_ when he wants to!

“You know, we Winchesters can be pretty thick when it comes to feelings. Maybe you should try being a bit more obvious?”

Gabriel’s staring at him like he just grew a second head. He isn’t blinking at all, and his hazel eyes make Dean feel uncomfortable.

“What?” he snaps, defensive.

“Are you trying to give me tips on how to seduce your brother?” Gabriel’s voice is slightly disbelieving, though there’s a hint of amusement in there too.

“Maybe,” Dean grumbles. “Listen, just I don’t know, try offering him flowers or something?”

He shrugs, the turns his back to the archangel to rummage through his duffle bag. He hears Gabriel leave after a moment, and his shoulders relax. Dean’s glad Gabriel didn’t insist more, didn’t ask him why he was trying to help them, because he really doesn’t want to have to admit out loud that he _likes_ the former Trickster.

Sam comes back from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “Gabriel gone?” he asks lightly, like he doesn’t care. His too-long hair is dripping water all over the place.

Dean just groans and pushes him to take his turn in the bathroom. He showers quickly, trying not to think of how much he misses Castiel. His angel’s off somewhere on a mission for God and Dean wishes he could at least call him, but his phone has been going straight to voicemail since he left last week.

He brushes his teeth and saunters off to bed, ignoring Sam’s asking him if he’s all right. His brother knows he can be pretty moody when Castiel’s not around though, so he leaves him alone quickly.

Dean sleeps like the dead that night. He wakes up to a sweet smell his still mostly unconscious brain can’t quite identify. It’s not anything his body associates with danger though, so he doesn’t worry, just lets his mind drift in a half-asleep half-awake state.

Sam’s bewildered “What the Hell?”, however, does wake him up.

Dean sits up, rubbing sleep off his eyes, looks at where his brother is sitting in his own bed, incomprehension written all over his face. Sam’s looking at the rose petals in his hands like they’re going to burst into song to explain to him how they got on his bed. 

Because Sam’s sheets are covered in flower petals, white ones, pink ones, red ones. Some of them fall on the floor as Sam moves. Dean can’t help it, he sniggers, and Sam’s eyes snap from the petals to his brother’s face.

“Dean?” he asks, voice uncertain. “Do… Do you know what’s happening?”

“Well,” Dean huffs, “how many people do _you_ know who can make things appear out of thin air?”

Sam’s eyes widen. “You don’t mean...? But why would–”

“Morning lover,” Gabriel’s voice cuts him off. 

The archangel’s standing next to Sam’s bed, leaning on the wall, a red rose in his hand. He leers at Sam, who just gapes at him for a few seconds. Then Sam shakes his head, laughing softly.

“I’m such an idiot,” he says before grabbing Gabriel’s arm and pulling him down for a kiss.

Dean smiles, glad that they’re both too occupied to catch him being such a girl. But when the kiss doesn’t stop after a few minutes and Gabriel slides onto the bed and ends up straddling Sam’s thighs, he’s starting to get just a tiny bit uncomfortable.

He clears his throat.

Nothing happens.

“Guys, I’m still here you know!”

He sees Sam start, and he’s clearly about to break away from Gabriel’s mouth, but the archangel’s hand in his hair is keeping him firmly in place. There’s a snap, and Dean finds himself in another room.

“Thank God,” he breathes out. He really didn’t want to see his kid brother getting to know his brand new boyfriend in the biblical sense.

Though now he’s in just his boxer shorts in an empty motel room, and his stomach is reminding him that he hasn’t had any breakfast yet. Loudly.

There’s a light ‘pop’ and a lemon pie appears in his lap. The words ‘Thanks Dean-o,” are spelled on top of it with whipped cream.

Dean smiles and digs in, moaning at the sinful deliciousness of the pie. He’s already eaten one third of it when there’s a familiar flutter of wings and Castiel appears next to the bed.

Best morning _ever_.


End file.
